


now he's our captain

by icannothinkofaname



Category: Far Cry 5, Far Cry: New Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Harm to Children, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religious Cults, canon typical bad things, fuck joseph seed all my friends hate joseph seed, nobody gets hurt but bad things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icannothinkofaname/pseuds/icannothinkofaname
Summary: Seventeen years after the Collapse, Joseph Seed will meet the person they've seen in their visions. The one who will be the shepherd to his flock, and lead his people when he is gone.What if the Captain had showed up in Hope County sooner? Much, much sooner.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	now he's our captain

**Author's Note:**

> i don't usually put notes before the beginning of my works but this does involve the kidnapping of a child by a religious cult so if you do not want to read that that's fair

The first time, they came with fruit. A giant basket of fresh fruit adorned with flowers, wrapped in newspaper and tied together with a red bow. The man carrying the basket lead a group of other men and women, all dressed the same and smiling down at Asha’s sister ( who’d been the first to get to the door. )

They all wanted to know if her parents were home. Or maybe an older sibling?

Asha’s parents stepped into view before they could. They each introduced themselves politely, the sort of polite adults become when they would really rather be anywhere but their current situation. For a moment, Asha wonders why they couldn’t just tell them to leave.

But they did bring fruit. A gift, taken by their dad and sat down on the hutch. Asha’s sister, most likely bored from the lack of attention, had already begun to dig through and examine its contents. Peaches and lilies, a box of strawberries, a heavy bottle of some sparkling juice.

The red bow remained tied around the basket’s handle. Tempting them to come forward and grab it, despite every desire to stay hidden in the stairwell away from the crowd. They stepped forward slowly, trying to subtly place themselves behind their sister as they reached over to untie the ribbon.

As soon as they came into view, the group at the door fell silent.

Asha looked up to see every single member of the group openly staring at them. Something inside them bristled. People watched them, of course. It’d taken a while for their new classmates in town to stop gaping at them during recess. But that didn’t stop the discomfort.

They scratched at the scarring around their neck with their prosthetic hand. Their whole face suddenly felt itchy and warm.

Distantly, they heard their mom speaking up. Her voice dropping all pretense of friendliness, she invited them to leave in less than pleasant terms, the kind that made Asha want to cover their sister’s ears.

One of the men in the group interrupted her, though. Declared to his group that  _ this  _ was the one. That it was just as he said.

He would’ve said more, if their mom didn’t slam the door in his face. Asha would’ve laughed at that, if they could stop the itchiness and that feeling of eyes gouging deep into their skin.

Their mom was still angry. They could feel how tense her shoulders were when she pulled them into a hug, words of encouragement mixed with curses towards the people now walking out down their driveway.

Eventually, Asha did laugh. Their sister had suggested they take the basket of food and literally throw it back at them if they came back, and the bubble in their chest burst into a giggle. She grinned that toothy grin she always got when she was pleased with herself, even as their dad explained how maybe throwing food at random strangers wasn’t the best way to deal with their problems. Even though from the looks of it, both their parents weren’t too opposed to the idea.

That night, they dreamed of a mob of people, all dressed the exact same way, all knocking at their doors and walls until the wood began to cave in.

* * *

The next time they came, it was a week later. And it was only one man. No gifts, no plastic smiles, no nothing. If anything, Asha noticed from their hiding place in the stairwell, he looked sad behind those yellow sunglasses.

Their dad was wary. Their mom was ready to try and fight whoever this was that had turned up at their doorstep. But he spoke so gently and with such remorse. The first words out of his mouth was an apology, and their parents decided to listen.

The man spoke of how easily words get twisted, but how he should still be held accountable for the actions they caused. How he preached today, telling his people to leave them alone. That Asha, and he used their name directly, was a wonderful child and he was sorry to get them caught up in anything.

Asha didn’t understand. It seemed their parents didn’t, either, from the confused glares they gave the man. If he was affected, he didn’t show it. Simply clasped his hands together and nodded.

He was already on his way out when their mom shut the door once more. Only because Asha’s sister had started running from the kitchen, wielding an apple like a weapon.

That night, she woke Asha up as they dreamt of bangs against the walls and floorboards. She crawled into their bed. Lied down next to them and rambled on about her favourite show until they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The last time they came, it was with guns. Trucks revving outside their house, the mob of people so much bigger and louder than what Asha had conjured in their head. They’d pulled their sister into a closet the second they could see what was happening outside the window, refusing to remove their prosthetic hand from her mouth.

Downstairs, they could hear their mom’s muffled shouts, their dad trying to call the police or their neighbours. Whoever would respond.

They could hear a man yelling from outside. Preaching, maybe. They couldn’t place the words, but he spoke with a conviction that seemed to shake the walls, that roused the mob to cheering.

They could hear when they broke down the front door. Shouting, fighting, footsteps running around the house.

Not here, someone cried.

Not here either, someone else responded.

Shadows cast through the narrow strip at the bottom of the door, and Asha watched people come and go while their sister trembled in their arms. Asha held her closer, lips pressed against her forehead, silently telling her that she was gonna be okay, she was going to be okay, everything was going to be okay.

Someone stopped in front of the closet door. Asha tried to hold their breath. The sounds of people tearing through their house was suddenly overshadowed by the emptiness of the closet, the sound of their own heart beat, the creak of floorboards.

The door opened slowly. The silhouette of the gentle spoken man stood above the two, before kneeling to their eye level.

They could feel their sister crying underneath their hand. Anger and fear both boiled over in their chest.

For the first time since they’d met, Asha spoke. Demanded to know what he wanted.

“I had a vision,” he explained, somehow explaining nothing. “I saw a world in ruins, destroyed by man’s sin, a world of ashes and rust. And then I saw you, Asha. You rising up to lead humanity. To outcast the locusts, to herd the flock of mankind. You are meant for so many great things, Asha Vakil. And I’m here to teach you those things.”

“...What if I don’t?”

“Then I will be powerless to stop God from taking away the people you love.”

Behind him, someone cocked a shotgun. It was a loud sound, more so than the guns they’d seen on TV.

Again, the man seemed so apologetic. Just like he did the first time, as if somehow weary from everything going on. He offered Asha a hand.

Their sister began to shake her head, tears now streaming down her face.

They finally removed their hand from her mouth. She was able to cry aloud as Asha Vakil took the hand of Joseph Seed.

* * *

From their seat in the truck, they could barely see out the dirt covered windows. But the little sun that shone through showed them their family, being held back by the mob. Their mom screamed, their dad tried to break free, their sister still cried.

Asha watched them until they were specks in the distance, until the trucks finally drove out of sight.


End file.
